Gillard had a hunch, and decided to act on it. Why would there be no phone activity between Crystal Willow and the rest of her family after the death of her boyfriend Ozzy Blanchard? It could be because they each had a new phone, but that was not the only possible reason. He drove down to Rissington Common, getting into the car park of the Anvil at six p.m. The weather was fine, and the garden outside was already busy with drinkers enjoying their new-found freedom. He donned his face mask, pulled on a baseball cap and sunglasses and approached the door. He saw Vicky behind the bar, with her back to him. He slipped in and across the lounge towards the corridor leading to the toilets. Even if he was spotted she would assume that’s where he was headed. The staircase to the upper floor was a right turn before the gents’ toilet. He ascended as quietly as he could, and eased open the squeaky fire door at the top. The Anvil’s office door was open, but no one was in there. There seemed to be three bedrooms. He listened at each door, but heard nothing. Then he spotted another small wooden staircase, ascending. As quietly as he could, he climbed the curving, cramped steps. They led to a short corridor, and a low door. He could hear the sound of a television. He knocked on the door, and the TV volume went down.

‘Who’s there?’ called a woman’s voice from within.

‘It’s about your dinner,’ Gillard said quietly. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and the door opened to reveal a large woman with frizzy hair.

‘Hello Crystal,’ Gillard said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’

Crystal Willow was taken to Winchester Police Station for questioning. Gillard had already cautioned her, and while waiting for the duty solicitor to arrive, he and DC Shireen Corey Williams stood in the corridor watching her through the one-way glass into the interview room. She had cried a little once she was left alone, and had since been staring into space.

‘What was she like when you brought her in?’ Shireen asked Gillard.

‘Relieved, I think. Being on the run for six months is hard work. I asked her who she was meeting at Chieveley Services, and she replied that it was only her sister. She had left Ozzy in the car. When she returned he and the vehicle were gone.’

‘Do you believe her?’

Gillard shrugged. ‘Vicky Willow’s red Citroën was at Chieveley. We haven’t gone through all the CCTV yet, but we’ve nothing so far to contradict her.’